Grand Passion

the job always looks like he knows what he's doing, and that's half the battle.”
    “That sounds like one of Jason Curzon's bits of wisdom.”
    “It is.”
    Max scanned the crowd, searching for Cleo. She stood with a group that included a number of towns-people as well as Andromeda and Daystar. Cleo's hair was swept up in a chignon that was more tightly secured than the usual careless knot she wore. The style was decorated with a row of yellow roses that were a beautiful contrast to the deep red highlights in her dark mane.
    She looked achingly feminine in her low-necked, tight-waisted yellow gown, Max thought. But, then, the sight of her always made him ache. He wondered if the need for her would ever diminish. He doubted it. He suspected it would only intensify over the years.
    The women of Cosmic Harmony had turned the graceful old resort lodge into a fantasy extravaganza done in yellow and white. All the stops had been pulled out for the wedding. In the center of the room a glowing Trisha, dressed in a floor-length creamy white gown and a tiny hat and veil, stood near Ben. Ben looked as if he had just been crowned king of the world. He caught Max's eye and grinned.
    Sammy was dashing here and there in the crowd and helping himself to everything that looked like it contained sugar.
    “The kid's going to be overstimulated tonight,” O'Reilly observed. “Where the hell do they get so much energy at that age?”
    Max turned his head at the wistful tone in O'Reilly's voice. “Damned if I know. Let's have the whole story, O'Reilly. Take it from the top.”
    O'Reilly stuffed a canapé into his mouth. “I took a second look at everything I could find that dealt with the death of Cleo's parents. She's been right about one thing all along; her father wasn't the kind who suddenly ups and shoots his wife and then himself.”
    “That's what everyone always says after it happens. He seemed like such a nice man .”
    “Yeah, I know, but in this case, Cleo has a point. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Robbins had a history of violent outbursts. Neither appeared to suffer from depression or suicidal tendencies. There had been no recent financial reverses for them. Neither had been diagnosed with a fatal illness.”
    “In other words, no obvious motivating factors.” Max watched Cleo. “No wonder she hasn't been able to buy the story the authorities gave her. She knew them too well to believe it.”
    O'Reilly scowled thoughtfully. “I think there's a real possibility that there was something else going on, and when Eberson started looking into the situation, he triggered a response.”
    “From someone who did not want the situation investigated?”
    “Yeah. Maybe. I just don't know yet, Max.”
    “Had Robbins recently fired someone who might have been crazy enough to murder him in retaliation?”
    O'Reilly shrugged. “He was a businessman, owned a good-sized electronics firm. He had fired a few people over the years. Part of the job. But I couldn't find any evidence to indicate that any of them were deranged or had made threats. The police probably checked that angle at the time, too.”
    “Anything else?”
    “The only other thing I turned up was that Robbins had testified for the prosecution at a murder trial two years before he was killed. I don't know if there was any connection, but I do know that the guy was convicted and sent to prison.”
    “A long shot.”
    “I know, but it's all I've got at the moment.” O'Reilly glanced at the buffet table. A strange expression lit his eyes. “What the hell is that thing floating in the punch bowl?”
    Max followed his gaze. “That's Lucky Ducky. He can swim anywhere. You wouldn't believe some of the places he turns up.”
    “No kidding?”
    “No kidding. I suppose I'd better get the duck out of the punch before someone notices.” Max started toward the large crystal bowl.
    “Max?” Cleo called.
    He stopped and turned around. “Right here, Cleo.”
    “Oh, there you are.” Cleo emerged from the crowd looking cheerfully harried. “I've been looking all over for you and O'Reilly. The photographer is ready to take the next batch of pictures. Come on, let's go before Sammy runs off again.”
    “Photos?” Max looked at her, bemused. “Of O'Reilly and me?”
    “Of course. And the rest of us, too.” Cleo smiled brilliantly as she took his hand. “The photographer has finished the portraits of the wedding couple. We're ready to do the family photos now.”
    “Family